


More

by wisia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:02:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: In which Christophe takes Victor to a strip club, and Victor gets more than expected. OR Yuuri is a stripper, sort of.
   [Spoilers for episode 10]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, writing Yuuri as a stripper demanded to be written after an episode like that. This actually contain less smut than it should have for a stripping fic. I actually did plan for it, but it just didn't work out that way. Also, I really had fun trying to write Christophe. I bet he and Victor have an awesome friendship.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy.
> 
> I'm just going to lie here and still die over this entire episode.

The club was smoky, gritty enough to leave a taste on Victor’s tongue. The only reason he didn’t gag on it was through years of everyone else smoking around him. Victor didn’t participate. Not because he really thought about the health dangers of smoking but because he has always been focused on skating. It left no time for anything else. Love, a life outside of the rink—those were for other people. They weren’t for Victor, and it must have been pathetic enough for Christophe to notice.

“Come here,” Christophe had said. He leaned in close, arm slung around Victor. The scent of his cologne smelled very sensual: sandalwood, musk, and masculinity. Just like the way Christophe oozed sex on ice. “You need something or you’re going to die doing this.”

“I’m going to die skating either way.”

Victor drank his champagne and watched the other skaters mingled across the floor. This was his fifth win at the Grand Prix Final, and he was most likely going on to win the Four Continents and the World.

“So serious,” Christopher said, squeezing his shoulder.

“Well, maybe next year for you.” Victor smiled, his teeth a little sharp as he eyed Christophe. Christophe looked back, undeterred and unperturbed. They had known each other too long in this field. They were but two, three years apart, and every day was another tick against the clock the more they aged.

“Victor!” Christophe sounded shock.

“I’m not saying anything new,” Victor shot back. He looked into the crowd again. He didn’t know what he was searching for here at the banquet, but it certainly wasn’t there.

“Ah,” Christophe nodded. “You’ll see. I’ve already got plans. But enough about that. Now listen. Come with me, and we’ll have a little fun.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, mildly intrigued. “Fun?”

“Yeah.” Christophe hummed, taking Victor’s glass away. “Let’s get out of here.”

Victor surveyed the room again. There was a hollowness in him, and he wasn’t going to find it here. Yakov stood in a corner talking quietly to another coach, and Yuri was…well, he would get along with his competitors. At least, Victor hoped. Yakov always did drill into him, and Victor never had trouble with his manners.

“Alright, fine.”

Christophe led him to a club, and this was where Victor stood now. It wasn’t what Victor expected.

“You really aren’t such a child anymore, are you?” Victor asked, gazing at the tables where scantily clad females and men danced. Wasn’t it just yesterday he tossed some flowers to Christophe and encouraged him?

“You say that like you haven’t seen me skate.” Christophe waved to one of the attendants, and they soon sat in a private room.

“Do you come here often?” Victor asked. “To these sort of establishments?”

“Now and then. Still have a reputation, you know. So, discretion.” Christophe shrugged, and they both settled into the couch. Victor rubbed a finger across the seat—leather, supple and worn. The room looked clean enough though for the sort of activities that occurred here.

“And you?” Christophe wondered. His hand was on Victor’s thigh, warm and heavy.

“Once.”

Victor had only frequented such an establishment once in his life, and that was when he turned eighteen and happened to be with some American exchange students at university. He barely stayed forty minutes before leaving. He had practice early the next morning, and Victor couldn’t say he regretted it. The life he led meant sacrifices and this was…

“You are too serious,” Christophe said. “You were a wonder when I first met you. You still are so enchanting, but—“

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Victor smiled at him.

“Uh, I suppose.” Christophe shook his head then stood up.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“This is for you. I said _you_ needed something, and for me—I got my own party. It’s going to be hot.” Christophe winked and disappeared out the door, leaving Victor staring.

Victor sighed. It would be rude to leave after Christophe had gone through all those trouble. Then, he blushed, cheeks heated and burnt raw. He had to look at the ground because he really had only been these establishment once before. While Victor flirted with the best of them, learned to drip charm on every word, he was at heart naive and pure. It didn’t matter what Victor did on ice or what he chose to forgo, he still dreamed and hoped. And that didn’t include being in a strip club.

He tensed when there was a creak and the sound of a door closing. The dim lights in the room were dimmed even lower, and a soft music started. It took a few beats, but Victor recognized the song. He frowned. “Stay Close to Me” wasn’t a stripping song at all and yet…here it was rearranged, sultry and promising.

His breath stuttered as the person climbed onto the table and slowly slid into position. The man’s black hair was gelled back, and there was a softness to his round brown eyes. The man smirked, and he swayed to the beat.

Victor’s heart skipped, unable to speak.

“Special for you,” the man said, a light accent coloring his words. Not that Victor could tell which part of the world, but the man was obviously Asian by his features.

Victor still couldn’t speak. He watched as the man pulled himself up, strength in those arms and muscles hidden beneath the tightness of his black number. Oh. Victor flushed, the burn spreading across even the back of his neck. The outfit was a homage to one of Victor’s early performances, from when he was still competing in the junior division.

“How did you—“

The man swung around the pole with ease and stopped before him. His eyes sparkled, and there was a bit of laughter in his voice.

“I’m a fan, maybe your number one fan.” The man turned and pulled himself up and into a backward dip. “Would you believe I have a shrine?”

“I…I guess?” There must be something in the air. It was only thing to explain how riveting the man appeared. The hollowness that Victor felt grew stronger, and before he could think he reached out and touched the man by the hip.

The man paused. His gaze was hot on Victor, deep and penetrating. With deliberation, the man moved forward, gliding down Victor’s hand and length of arm and leaving a trail of spark wherever he touched. He bent his head down, closer into Victor’s space, and whispered quiet and sure.

“My name’s Yuuri.”

“Yuuri,” Victor repeated, entranced. There was just a slight difference in pronunciation to Yuri that wasn’t obvious. Or maybe it seemed that way because of how Yuuri spoke it. Either way, Victor did not think about Yuri Plisetsky. Did not want to think about the kid, not with this lovely scene unfolding before him.

Embolden, Victor reached out again with his other hand. Yuuri laughed, low and amused, pulling out of his grasp and back onto the table.

“No touching,” Yuuri warned.

He reached back with his arms, pulling him up and spreading his legs into a very neat split. Victor couldn’t help but eye the bulge in his pants.

“At all?”

“You haven’t even seen my routine.”

“How true.”

And Victor watched as Yuuri balanced himself, twisted himself, and moved so gracefully against and with the pole. The zipper came down then, halfway through the performance, and Victor could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. Blood rushed through him, and there was a roar in his ears as everything singled out to just Yuuri and only Yuuri.

“Oh,” Victor said and clenched the edge of his seat. This was—

“Yeah,” Yuuri said, and then he was in Victor’s lap. Automatically, Victor’s hands jump to either side of Yuuri’s hips.

“Is it good?” Yuuri crooned, drawing his fingers down Victor’s chest and trailing the tiny buttons on the dress shirt.

“Yes,” Victor said. He didn’t think, merely leaned in, and kissed Yuuri on the lips. It was barely a touch, and he felt Yuuri freeze. He pulled back, and the confidence Yuuri exuded had all but dissipated.

“What?”

“Sorry,” Yuuri said, shifting to get off.

Victor held him tight. “Was that not allowed?”

“No. No—I mean, yes.”

It surprised him to see a blush descend on those cheeks when Yuuri had been dancing on the table in the dirtiest ways possible.

“I mean, I haven’t—“ Yuuri inhaled deep. “Please. Kiss me again.”

“God,” Victor breathed. The hollowness in his chest had spread into an ache, into a need that grew acute with every passing second. “You are adorable.”

He cradled the back of Yuuri’s head and pressed his lips to his. This time longer and more daring. Yuuri kissed as if he has never been kissed before.

“You,” Victor whispered against Yuuri’s lips and drawing a shudder out of him, “you really haven’t done this before.”

“No,” Yuuri admitted, a little out of breath. “Have you?”

“A few times.” Victor smiled wryly. “I don’t really have much time for it. Just my hand usually.”

Yuuri chuckled. “Same. Though it’s always been my hand.”

He looked up at Victor, eyes framed seductive with his eyelashes. “Please.”

And Victor obliged him. For a transaction, it didn’t feel like one. For a grinding, it didn’t seem like one.

It was only for that night.

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

“You’ve improved,” Christophe remarked the next day after the short program. “I’m upset.”

“You’ve improved as well,” Victor noted. He stretched, back almost protesting the vigorous regimen Victor kept to get here.

“Not enough to beat you apparently,” Christophe sighed. “I’ll pull you into my orbit one day.”

“That _was_ something last year.” That night with Yuuri was more than enough to give Victor a spark. A glimpse of hope that there could be more than just this repetitive life. He didn’t know what he was going to do yet, but he would know when he found it. At least, it was enough for Victor to go on for another season.

Christophe waggled his eyebrows. “Oh? So, you did enjoy it. You never said a word.”

“I don't kiss and tell.”

“Spoilsport,” Christophe sniffed and turned his gaze to the rink as the next skater in the lineup entered. Victor’s eyes followed his. He paused. That skater…

“Ah,” Christophe said as the skater flubbed a triple axel. “That was terrible.”

There was something familiar about the movement, but the skater wasn’t smooth at all with his transitions. Every jump was a fail, and Victor was going to forget about it but then—

“Okay,” Christophe whistled. “That is some footwork.”

The skater’s step sequence was beautiful, enchanting. It was possibly the only remarkable thing about the program. It was also pulling at Victor’s strings. He didn’t understand why.

That skater…

Victor blinked as the skater glide right in front of him and into a flying sit spin.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Christophe said, looking up from his cell. “That’s who he is.”

The bottom of Victor’s stomach dropped. “Yuuri?”

“He’s probably going to end up last with that form.” Christophe slapped Victor on the back. “My turn next. I still got a chance.”

Victor barely heard him. He didn’t understand how, but he was certain that Yuuri Katsuki was his Yuuri. He turned on his heel, heading for the back.

“Vitya!” Yakov called out. “Where are you going?”

“To the back.”

Yakov grabbed a firm hold of him. “It’s almost your turn. Get over here.”

“But—“

“No buts.” Yakov frowned. “Whatever it is can wait.”

Victor caught a glimpse of Yuuri’s dark hair. He wanted to—

“Victor!”

Victor grimaced, grinding his teeth together. This was…he couldn’t lose his head now. Skating was his life, and it was going to be all he had apparently.

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

The banquet this year was just as boring as the last. Victor stood with his customary glass of champagne that he hardly drank, back to the wall. He didn’t have to work too hard to avoid Christophe. The man had gotten distracted by one of the ladies from Italy. He contemplated leaving when he heard them.

“What’s wrong, Yuuri? You look so glum.”

Victor turned his head. There was Coach Celestino, and—his heart stuttered. This near, he could see that was his Yuuri. The one who danced for him and…

“Have you had anything to drink? To eat? There’s pizza…” Celestino asked.

Yuuri did look as glum as Celestino pronounced. It was as if he was dragged there, and Victor couldn’t miss this chance. Celestino deposited Yuuri right next to the drinks, and Victor almost tripped on his way over. Skating was important, but this was more.

“Yuuri!”

The man paused, a fourth glass of champagne already in his head. His eyes widened, and Victor grabbed his hand before he could escape.

“V-victor,” Yuuri stammered. There was a blush on his cheeks, made redder from the alcohol he just downed.

“May I speak to you?”

Yuuri squirmed, eyes darting around. Victor escorted him out, to the hallway where it was a little more secluded and less populated.

There was a pause.

“I—“

“You are a skater,” Victor interrupted.

“Yes.” Yuuri sighed. He looked down at the glass in his hand. In an instant, he raised the glass and drained it swiftly. “Look, that was—a favor. For my ballet instructor, and, and…I don’t regret it. I’m sorry if you feel different.”

“I do feel different,” and that wasn’t what Victor wanted to say, but it was right.

“Eh?”

“I feel different, and I want more of it.” Victor cupped Yuuri’s cheek. This was it. He was certain of it. “Let me—“

“Be my coach,” Yuuri said. His eyes were steel as he looked into Victor’s.

It wasn’t what Victor wanted exactly, but he could work with it. Not when Yuuri could mean more for him, for a life and love more than Victor thought he could have.


End file.
